


Not a Thing

by funkmetalalchemist



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bromance, FWP, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Incest-y vibes, M/M, No Sex, Smooch fic, just kissing, like pwp but without porn?, my apologies, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:17:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funkmetalalchemist/pseuds/funkmetalalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes, Stiles and Scott would kiss. More often than not, it was nothing big. A peck on the cheek, sometimes the lips. It was a way of expressing gratitude, comforting one another, showing affection. Only sometimes would it escalate."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Thing

It’s not, like, a thing.

That was what Stiles had told his dad when he had caught them the first time. Stiles’ dad, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, had started in on a speech about how he still loved both of them, they better be using protection if they ever, you know, do that, and how Scott just wouldn't be spending the night anymore without the Sheriff’s prior consent. Stiles had stopped him.

“Dad,” he had said, laughing and looking at Scott’s matching smile, “it’s not, like, a thing. Okay? Scott’s still dating Allison, I’m still flying solo. I was just bummed out about failing my economics test, and Scott was trying to cheer me up. It’s no big deal.”

The Sheriff was still confused as all get-out, but didn't bother breaching the subject further. He didn't want to get into that. He really did not need to know what was going on there. However, he was still concerned about one thing.

“So, you failed your economics test?” And as Stiles stammered away about Finstock not respecting his creative approach to describing early economic systems, Sheriff looked at his boy (really his two boys, Scott had been a part of the family for so long), and wondered how the hell they had gotten into this mess.

For the boys, though, it wasn't a mess. It was actually pretty simple: Sometimes, Stiles and Scott would kiss. More often than not, it was nothing big. A peck on the cheek, sometimes the lips. It was a way of expressing gratitude, comforting one another, showing affection. Only sometimes would it escalate to that slow, smoldering type where they would lay in the bed and just relax, melt into it. It was only by unfortunate circumstance that Stiles’ dad had walked in on one of those times.

It wasn't, you know, a big deal, though.

It was comfortable. That was how Scott had described it after the incident as they laid side-by-side on Stiles’ bed, his arm curled under his best friend. Neither could remember the first time they had kissed on the cheek (“It must have been, like, elementary school!” Scott had claimed), but both remembered the first time it had built to anything beyond a simple peck.

Their freshman year, Scott had received a letter from his father. It hadn't said much, just a basic check up, a letting-you-know-I’m-still-alive letter. But Scott had enough terrifying memories of the man who called himself his father that the one letter had Scott holed up in his room for a full day, not answering his mother’s calls, not responding to texts. Stiles had come over after an hour without response. Scott let him in after a full minute of knocking, but stayed silent, and moved back to where he had been, just sitting on the bed, looking at the card he held in his hands.

Stiles sat down next to him. He looked at the card but didn't have to read it to know. The signature at the bottom was enough for him to understand why Scott had gone near-catatonic. The bed let out a quiet creak as Stiles moved closer. When they were shoulder-to-shoulder, Stiles placed a hand on Scott’s thigh, kissed him gently on the cheek, then turned forward again to rest his head against Scott’s shoulder.

Stiles was a talker and everyone knew that, but he also knew when he needed to be silent. Usually he would ignore that and continue talking anyways, but Scott was his best friend, and he would do anything for him, even something as little as staying silent when Scott needed it.

They were silent for a while, breathing each other in, Stiles taking a moment every few minutes to rub circles into Scott’s back. When the silence was broken by a sniffle, Stiles finally sat upright and turned to look at Scott. His eyes were rimmed red, and filled with tears, but he seemed resolute to not let them out.

“Hey,” Stiles whispered, “look at me.” Scott sniffed again and turned to meet Stiles’ eyes. Stiles kept his tone low as he continued. “He’s not a part of your life anymore. Your mom, my dad, me? We’re your family, and we love you, and you don’t need him poisoning this too. Alright? Forget him, Scott. Okay? I love you.” He moved in and placed a soft kiss against Scott’s lips, lingering for a few moments before releasing it and looking back into Scott’s eyes. A tear had brimmed over, but Scott was almost smiling.

“You too,” Scott’s voiced cracked out as he made an attempt to fully smile at Stiles, but it was still tinged with sadness. Scott moved forward, slowly, his eyes on Stiles’ lips until they made contact and they slid shut. The card fell to the floor without a sound. The kiss had only broken off for a second before Scott found himself leaning back in, with more force. Scott moved his hands so one was on Stiles’ waist and the other just grazing his neck. He opened his mouth, letting the tip of his tongue graze Stiles’ lips, waiting for the answer to a silent question. Stiles lips seemed to stutter for a moment before he responded with enthusiasm, letting his own tongue meet Scott’s.

They kissed like that for a while. Sitting on Scott’s bed, kissing slowly, relaxed. Then, after Scott had accidentally grazed his hand on a sensitive spot on Stiles’ side, Stiles broke away, giggling. Scott rolled his eyes and took Stiles’ shoulders. He shifted Stiles and rolled, effectively pinning Stiles to his mattress. At this, Stiles attempted to muffle his giggles, succeeding only in making himself laugh harder.

“Shut up,” Scott laughed as he moved down to kiss Stiles again. His right knee automatically slotted itself between Stiles’ legs, and the two were lying with their pelvises making steady contact. Despite how it may have looked, and despite the reaction Stiles’ body had to the pressure against his crotch (something Stiles would adamantly deny when they finally broke apart), it didn't feel sexual. They were brothers. They loved each other. So what if they made out sometimes? And besides, it wasn't a big deal.

It wasn't a thing. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love hearing feedback because it lets me know what you guys want from my next piece.  
> Speaking of, I'm working on about a million right now. I'm about 11k into a Sterek au fic that I LOVE, and I've got the beginnings of a few other Teen Wolf and Supernatural fics. It might be a while, but you've got those to look forward to eventually. :)
> 
> Fun Fact: The file I saved this under is "Sciles_Stott_wth_do_you_call_this.doc" (seriously though)


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